and the storm
Burma is the prototype modern-day metropolis state, thus worldwide relief efforts to counter the recent cyclone’s effects are being stymied.
The dictatorship is using natural disaster as a means to furthering its efforts to oppress its own people.
The relief efforts of the global village will only be used to condemn the people to total totalitarianism.
The relief, which was introduced to reduce the impact of the cyclone’s effects will only lead to further tyranny.
The Burmese junta is the equivalent of a political cyclone, which ravaged this nation’s people for decades.
Not to diminish the significance of the loss of human life, but the lucky ones are the two million victims of the cyclone, because natural disasters do not discriminate or torture or enslave. They kill all and any in their path — indiscriminately.
Too bad the cyclone could not have veered toward Burma’s dictatorial House of Assembly and done these people a good turn.
May democracy and freedom prevail in Burma. “God’s will be done on Earth as it is in heaven.”
As James Loney said: “Freedom is, next to life, the most precious gift God has given us. It should never be taken from any human being.”
The current federal government may go down in history as one of the most effective.
Had Chrétien not gotten a majority 13 years earlier, things might have been much different.
As it stands, Stephen Harper knows better than to bring in stupid legislation. Dion knows better than to vote against good legislation. I like it that way.
As it is in soap operas, so it is in politics these days. You really don’t have to try and figure out who the bad guys are. They all have secrets they’d like to keep quiet.
Whitehorse would have done much better with a minority government and a couple independents. As it stands now, they do anything they want to whomever they choose.
Hopefully, by the next election the good people of the Yukon will speak up.
Memories of someone
I never met:
Roberta D. Speer
I was looking through the May 14 issue of the Yukon News and a name in the obituaries caught my attention.
It took me back 65 years to a swing in a neighbouring backyard.
I was close to five at the time; we had just moved downriver to Dawson and into a house across Fifth Avenue from the school.
The house to the south beside ours was a well-kept two-storey log home. I think Macleod White and his family lived there then.
One day I went out our back door and turned south down the alley. A tall swing in the neighbouring backyard drew me several hesitant paces onto the property.
I was gazing at the swing when an older girl came up beside me.
She said, “Get on and I will push you.”
I said nothing but climbed on.
After a time the girl switched to pushing from the front and stated, “This is not my swing, it belongs to Roberta Daily; we called her Bobbie, she used to live in this house.”
From the tone of her voice and wistful look on her face I got the impression that this girl she was talking about, the one with a boy’s first name and funny last name was someone special. It was obvious this self-appointed keeper of the swing thought so.
The girl suddenly said, “I have to go now, you can’t play on the swing, someone else lives here now.”
I said nothing; I was still thinking of the girl who owned the swing. I can’t remember who the girl pushing me was.
I did, however, often wonder about the girl who owned the swing. In time I had created an image of a mystical long-haired, long-legged attractive older girl.
For a long time I often thought I would like to see her one day just to see if the image I held was anywhere close.
I am looking at her name and picture in the paper now, but the image of her that I created so long ago will not return; it has faded over time.